The Hawk and the Wren
by Nikki Morgan
Summary: Tristan and the Knights stumble upon an injured and scared woman, and in teaching her to trust one knight realized he may have discovered more. Set before the movie, rating subject to change.
1. Discovery

**Arthur's Note(s):** Couple of quick things before I forget.

First off, so sorry for the lengthy delay there was a move half way around the world for school and it threw me for a loop.

Secondly, if you're just tuning in, enjoy.

Third, if you've been following along you can probably get by skipping to chapter 7 (when it gets posted), nothing major has changed just some slight alterations, elaborations and minor streamlining but most of it's the same. I'd love it if you read it from the beginning and tell me what you think.

Finally, let me know what you think, and review often. Constructive criticism is worth its weight in gold. Better or worse than the original?

PS-- Nope not mine and is this disclaimer really necessary?

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Wren ran, not knowing where she was heading; only knowing that no matter what lay ahead it could not possibly be as bad as what lay behind her. The blood that stained her hands was not her own, but she did not feel remorseful for spilling it. Like any creature after being beaten too many times, she had lashed out at her attacker and for once in her life she had been victorious.

The world around her passed in a green blur as she raced down a narrow trail. Bushes and branches snagged on her dress and scratching at her face and arms. She batted them away, cursing as briars cut into her sensitive feet. Wren was relieved when the under brush cleared away and she ran faster leaping the occasional log with deer like grace.

Tears blurred her vision and she did not see the gnarled roots before she tripped and fell sprawled on the damp ground. For long moments she lay there listening for sounds of pursuit. Moments of silence passed before the forest awoke around her. Comforted by the sounds of crickets and birds she relaxed.

Too exhausted to continue her flight she curled up at the base of the large elm that sent her tumbling. While a small part of her brain fought to remain conscious her body had been pushed too far to respond, and she to fell into an uneasy sleep.

Tristan spotted the crumpled figure instantly. A girl, battered and bruised from what he could see a top his horse, but a girl nonetheless. The fact she was still breathing both piqued his curiosity and roused his suspicions. Sensing no trap he slowly dismounted, careful to make no sound as he took a few steps towards her. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he waited for an attack. None came.

He observed her from a few feet away still uncertain whether she was a device of the enemy. Her clothes were blood spattered, as were her hands, but there was no evidence of a battle nor did she carry any weapons. Fine bones ruled out Briton blood, and she lacked the build of a warrior. While the pale skin indicated that she spent more time indoors than out. She wasn't dressed for Britannia weather in only a thin dress and Tristan could see that her feet beneath were bare. But beneath the blood and bruises she was pretty, delicate.

_What would bring a little bird like you out here?_ He mused silently walking around her looking for additional clues to her identity.

The knights were approaching; the scout could hear Bors' rowdy laughter. Tristan winced. The racket would get them all killed one day. Turning back he mounted and rode back towards the group, strangely reluctant to tell the others of her presence.

Signaling to Arthur the knights stopped in a small natural clearing. Close enough that Tristan could still keep an eye on the woman without the knights stumbling upon her.

Fire roaring and rations dispersed Tristan rose from the group, carrying an extra chunk of unleavened bread and jerky. His fellow knights watched him curiously, but did not question his actions. He was almost out of the ring of light when Arthur's voice stopped him, "Where are you going Tristan?"

Tristan nodded vaguely in the direction of the girl he had found, surprised that she had not stirred. The knights had not been quiet by any means. "Girl."

"A girl?" Galahad pressed his voice a shade too eager as he peered into the gloom skeptically. "Roman?"

"Not woad." Tristan shrugged, what more did they need to know?

He disappeared silently ignoring the disbelieving comments that followed him. A few meters from camp he paused, listening for sounds that he had been followed. He heard a muffled cursing as Galahad tripped and clucked his tongue disparagingly. The boy was hopeless. Only after he heard the footsteps heading back towards the fire did he slip from his hiding place.

She was where he had left her, still curled painfully in on herself as she shuddered against the cold. Definitely a foreigner, a Briton would have carried a cloak.

Instead of waking her he crouched a few meters away resting his hands on his knees, not wanting to startle her. It was never wise to waken a creature you did not know, and she was showing signs of stirring.

Wren did not know what had woken her. She sat frozen for some moments listening for danger. She could not explain the feeling that she was not alone. A low rustling to her left and her green eyes snapped open to clash with those of a well-armed stranger.

With a stifled shriek, she pressed more firmly against the tree. The figure did not move, instead regarding her with a curious expression. His lack of motion reassured her and the roaring of her heart quieted. Pushing her fear down just enough to function, Wren realized that he was speaking to her in low and soothing tones in a language that was familiar.

"Easy." Tristan murmured, keeping his voice soft. She regarded him warily, with eyes that were not as feral as they were moments ago. Her eyes swept over his lean form, before resting on the food he was holding. It had been a long time since her last meal.

"Hungry?" He asked catching the lingering look. Holding out the bread to her Tristan made no move as to rise, determined to make her come to him. He had always been good with animals; a woman should not be so different. And the key to befriending any wary creature was to give it some semblance of control. As long as she did what he wanted, did it really matter if she thought it was her idea?

"Eat?" When she did not move he mimed the action, unsure if she understood Latin.

She watched him for a few minutes longer before rising on unsteady feet, slowly walking towards him and taking the bread. Though his expression did not change, triumph flashed in his eyes.

She retreated back to the tree to devour her meal, taking another bite almost before the previous one was swallowed.

"Slow down." Tristan advised, aware her eyes were on him. She nodded and dutifully slowed down. He nodded encouragingly.

"Tristan," he murmured gesturing towards himself, though nearly certain that she was a Latin speaker.

"Wren." She replied so softly he was almost not certain he had heard it. Tristan nodded and then stood, causing her to withdraw. He made no move towards her.

_Not one to trust lightly, are you?_ Tristan thought, catching her instinctive movement. _That's all right neither am I. _

"Come with me." Tristan took a few steps back towards camp, pleased to see that she was following him, albeit hesitantly_._ They walked in silence, evaluating each other. She was nimble footed, he noted, her feet making almost no sound in passing. A difficult one to track, the scout mused. As the light of the fire penetrated the trees, her footsteps lagged.

He gestured for her to wait a moment before he stepped into the light. The coarse hoots of laughter than greeted him, had her moving backwards. He held a hand up to hold her. His attention torn between the woman who was ready to flee and his shield mates, he summoned Dagonet with a curt motion.

"Where's your woman Tristan?" Lancelot laughed. Tristan shot him a freezing glare then turned to Dagonet, "She needs help. Be patient."

"Tris—" The healer began, trailing off when he caught the slight movement behind the scout. He watched Tristan give a small come hither gesture, but the shadow made no move to come closer. Dagonet could have laughed at the look of impatience that passed over the scout's face.

"Won't you come out, milady? We mean you no harm." Dagonet called softly, taking a few steps from the group. He held out his hand in a beseeching manner as if that could lure her from the shadows.

Hesitantly Wren stepped forward into the ring of light, if only to avoid the look on Tristan's face that said, come now or I will fetch you. He may have done her no harm earlier, but Wren had no desire to be fetched. The large man who had been coaxing her from the woods smiled softly.

The rest of the group sat in shocked silence before breaking into bawdy laughter.

Wren jumped at the rough noise, taking a few steps back towards the anonymity the forest offered. Her eyes glued on the group of seated men she did not notice that Tristan followed her movements, prepared to chase after her should she run.

P_erhaps I would have been safer on my own,_ she questioned indecisively her eyes jumping from the men to the trees and back again.

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Reviews are loved!!


	2. Introductions

"Forgive them little one, they don't mean anything by it. No one here will hurt you." Dagonet spoke quickly but kept his voice soft. Silently he prayed that she would not flee, the state of her dress and the scratches on her face indicated she needed aid. Whatever hold Tristan had on her was not strong, and the scout did not look to be in the mood to play games. "Won't you come a little closer to the fire? It's a cold night."

Hesitantly Wren flittered a few steps closer, her eyes still on the large group. A sharp word from the Roman had quieted them, but she could still feel the weight of their stares.

"Milady?" A deep voice whispered too close for Wren's personal comfort, she retreated a step. The giant was asking her something Wren realized belatedly, looking at the man in confusion. He smiled understandingly, and repeated his question. "What's your name, little one?"

"Wren." She murmured quietly.

"Wren." Dagonet repeated slowly, smiling at the similarities between the girl and the bird that was her namesake. "I am Dagonet."

She nodded jerkily in acknowledgement, but her eyes continued their rapid flight around the camp keeping everyone in her line of sight.

Hoping to ease her nerves Dagonet introduced the rest of the knights, gesturing to each in turn, knowing that it was fruitless gesture. The knights' for their part were well behaved each giving a small nod and polite greeting, nothing to startle the skittish woman.

"Wren, are you hurt?"

She shook her head in denial but a flash of red caught the healer's eye, gleaming darkly in the firelight. He reached to grab her hand fearing she had been injured despite her denial, only to have Wren scramble away her green eyes black with fear.

"Please, no." She stammered softly, slowly slinking away from them. Dagonet froze, as did the other men, pity pouring from his eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's all right Wren, I didn't know. Please don't go." He coaxed, watching Wren's eyes focus, edging from panic to wary. "No one will hurt you."

Wren bit her lip and nodded skeptically, her eyes automatically going to Tristan's searching for conformation. Dagonet caught the silent exchange and shot Tristan a questioning look, receiving only a shrug in response.

Comforted by the scout's slight nod Wren did not flee instead settling herself a ways from the men, at the base of a large evergreen barely contained in the ring of firelight.

The conversation across the fire quickly picked up again as the knights pointedly ignored her. Only after she had settled down did the Roman, Arthur, rise from his seat next to the dark knight and make his way around the fire. He stopped before he got with in reach of her and crouched to meet her eyes.

"Milady," He began softly, aware of her uncomfortable shifting. "I know you have been through much, but can you tell me what happened?"

"Attacked." Wren breathed, looking through Arthur and seeing the brief battle flash before her eyes again. Cocking her head she looked at Arthur, "Blue men. Everywhere."

"Woads." Arthur supplied, seeing her lost look. "Natives of this land. And what of your companions? You did not travel alone?"

"All dead." Came the swift reply.

_Though not all dead by the blue men, _Wren mentally amended. The knights looked curiously at the disheveled figure, forgetting that they had been pretending to ignore her, but detected neither remorse nor guilt in the curt response.

"I am sorry for you loss, Milady." Arthur continued, uncertain whether he should pursue the subject. Talking to her was much like talking to Tristan, revealed only what was asked and in such clipped answers it almost made the exercise pointless. "My knights and I will escort you to the Wall on the marrow."

Wren nodded her thanks to the Roman then folded deeper into herself shivering slightly as the wind played in her tangled locks. The small movement was not unnoticed and several men moved to offer her a blanket.

Tristan was the quickest to respond, silently unclasping his cloak and holding it out to Wren. The garment was just out of reach, forcing her to rise and grab it from his hand their fingers brushing slightly as she pulled away. She did not flinch at the contact instead wrapping herself in the heavy garment and resuming her seat.

Wren was just beginning to relax when heavy footsteps approached. Glancing through the heavy folds of her borrowed cloak she met gentle eyes. The giant paused a good distance from her then looked pointedly at the empty space beside her.

Taking the slight nod as a sign of acquiescence Dagonet perched on his heels at her side offering her the steaming mug of tea. It would help her sleep something that he was sure she needed, though he doubted she'd agree.

"To keep off the chill." He spoke softly, saddened by the tenseness of her shoulders at his proximity. She reached for it slowly as if he might take it from her fingertips.

_Forgive me little one, _he thought as he watched her sip at the tea, _but Arthur and I agree. Sleep now, we can fight later about who was wrong._

Wren sipped at the tea without much thought, grateful for the warm feeling it left as it traveled down her throat. Though it was summer it was still nippy when the rain and the wind picked up. Only when she felt her eyes becoming heavy did suspicion flare in her mind.

"It's alright little Wren, just sleep." The giant shushed her softly as she tried to fight the drowsiness that overcame her. With his words of reassurance ringing in her ears she succumbed, praying that his words where true.

The healer worked quickly once his unwilling patient closed her eyes. With sure hands he carefully wiped at the scratches on her face, cleaning off the blood and dirt dabbing a green ointment on the worst ones. Carefully he unwrapped her from the cloak, his eyes running over her slender frame for injury. He probed gently at the gash he spied on her forearm giving a sigh of relief that it did not need stitches. The brief examination over he wrapped the cloak snuggly around her again.

Sighing Dagonet rose, carrying the small cup that contained the tainted tea with him as he returned to his brothers. The knights watched the sleeping Wren with a variety of emotions, curiosity and suspicion visible on their faces. One did not simply find a woman wandering alone in the woods.

"Her condition?" Arthur inquired, quelling his guilt as he gazed at the drugged girl. He justified the order to lace the tea in her current state she was a danger to herself as well as others.

"A few scrapes, some bruises that I can see." The healer replied, his eyes sympathetic as the traveled over the sleeping form. "There is probably more, but now is not time." Dagonet returned the cup to his bag neatly packing away his supplies then readying his own bed. "She will be fine with rest."

Seeing Wren's slight shiver as a particularly hard wind swept through the clearing Galahad rose from his place next to the flames, gently draping a blanket over her but even in her sleep she pulled from his touch.

"You know youngling, it's far easier to woo a woman with your gallantry when she's awake." Lancelot laughed looking skeptically at the Wren, "Though there isn't much of one to woo."

"Shut it Lancelot." Galahad ordered his voice clipped. "Leave her be, she's been through enough."

Lancelot only laughed, "Oh young pup, what a time to develop an infatuation. You don't even know where she's been."

The double entendre of his cynical remark caused more than just Galahad's hackles to rise but as the young knight turned on Lancelot, Arthur cut in. "Enough. Lancelot, Galahad, Tristan see if you can discover something of our new friend in the morning. Until then sleep."

As the men dispersed to their beds, Tristan walked over to Dagonet. The healer had moved his bed closer to the sleeping girl so he could check on her in the night. "She'll never trust you after this."

The large man turned nodding slightly, "I know but it needed to be done. What is she to you Tristan? Why have you taken such an interest?"

The scout shrugged, unable to explain the phenomena to himself, let alone his friend.

_Just a passing amusement,_ he cautioned himself, _an oddity, nothing more._

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_Go a head, review. You know you want to. _


	3. The Wall

Tristan glanced around the clearing, his eyes lingering on the nearly destroyed carriage. The fabric had been slashed and large chucks of the rich material were missing, salvaged for later use. Any identifying ornamentation, if there had been any, was gone. The contents of several chests lay strewn on the forest floor, clothing, a shredded bible but nothing to identify the passengers.

Of the eight dead, only one caught Tristan's eye, the man decomposing in the carriage. Unlike his companions who had been hacked by crude Woad weapons, his throat had been neatly slashed. Tristan could say with almost certainty that this man's death had not been at the hands of blue men, it had been personal. A glint of silver caught his eye sand he stooped to snag a sliver of metal from the carriage floor. Frowning he identified the object, a needle, far finer than he had seen before. Nimble fingers tucked it out of sight and left to find Lancelot and Galahad.

As he returned to the camp one thought haunted him. Who was this woman and why had she been spared?

**-x-**

"Bloody mess," Lancelot growled, riding back into the group and dropping several woad arrows at Arthur's feet. A decidedly green Galahad followed him. "But her story checks out. Small caravan, not much left and we don't know where they were headed, or who they were."

"Where's Tristan?" Arthur asked, looking for the silent knight wondering if he had gleaned more from the scene than the others. Lancelot and Galahad shrugged, he had been right behind them.

"Alright men, prepare to head out." Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes at the headache he could feel forming.

"And the girl?" Galahad queried edging closer to the still sleeping Wren.

"She rides with me." Tristan cut in, easing his mount between the two. As Galahad opened his mouth to protest he glanced towards Dagonet. "Help me with her."

"Of course Tristan," Dagonet rumbled, easily hefting Wren's slight frame cooing softly as she stirred in her sleep. With careful hands he settled her in front of Tristan tucking the edges of the heavy cloak tighter around her. "Ride fast, she won't sleep long."

Tristan adjusted Wren in a manner that Dagonet would have almost been tempted to describe as tender before nodding to Arthur and kicking his horse into a trot. Dagonet placed a restraining hand on Galahad's tense shoulder, "Leave them. You know better than that. Tristan does not share."

Galahad wrenched away from the giant knight, laughing bitterly, "Tristan? What does that man know of compassion? He would as soon kill her."

"Pup." Bors growled, "you stop this now, or you'll answer to me." He let out a low chuckle. _Leave it to Tristan to pick a wild one, wonder if he realizes it yet._

**-x-**

Tristan knew the instant the woman in his arms woke, not in a flurry of movement as he had previously expected but instantly stiffening, every muscle locked in protest.

"Shh," He crooned, feeling the panicked heartbeat through her thin ribs. Sensing the instinctive panic he loosened his hold. As soon as he did Wren threw her weight to the side, trying to slip from the shying horse and annoyed rider.

"Trying to get us killed, eh?" The scout breathed, his horsemanship the only thing keeping them both in the saddle. His arms tightened around her warningly, "You knock us off this horse and I will leave you here, Arthur or no."

She whimpered softly, her fine bones trembling. The soft sound of Wren's weeping was like a knife going through Tristan's gut. He didn't understand the new emotions swirling through him and he had no desire to examine them. Without realizing it his calloused hands gentled, coaxing her back against his warmth. Though she didn't relax against him, Wren no longer attempted to escape his grasp.

As they crested the hill Wren gasped as she saw her first glimpse of the wall that stretched across the horizon. The fort lay before them in a large sprawling mass, and Wren allowed herself a glimmer of hope.

_I can start over. _

As Tristan directed his horse towards the gate he was surprised by the way Wren pressed herself back against him at the sight of the red-cloaked roman guards.

"Sarmatian dog found himself a bitch." One growled.

"Not a horrible looking one either." The other cried lewdly. "Maybe we'll try her later."

Tristan's only acknowledgement was a frosty glare, while Wren tried to disappear within the folds of the cloak. She lowered the deep hood as the came to a stop in a large courtyard.

"Tristan?" Vanora cried rushing from the tavern towards the scout, "has something happened? Where are the others?"

"No." Tristan replied sliding down from the mount and leaving Wren feeling oddly deprived of his warmth. "Rode ahead."

Tristan turned to help Wren dismount only to see the small woman sliding clumsily to the ground, ignoring his outstretched hand.

_We're going to have to work on trusting, _he thought wryly.

Vanora turned towards Wren sizing up the smaller woman through the heavy cloak she had wrapped around her, "What's your name luv?"

"Wren." She replied watching the red head and the brood of children that surrounded her with open curiosity.

"Vanora." The older woman smiled welcomingly at the hesitant figure already determined to help the poor woman the scout had brought to her doorstep. The cat had brought her better-looking creatures.

"What were you doing out there all alone?" Vanora asked, glancing at Tristan when she didn't answer immediately.

The scout shrugged, "Found her on patrol, caravan was attacked."

"How terrible, you poor dear. Come on luv, let's get you cleaned up." Vanora coaxed, effectively herding Wren from her escort and into the building. Tristan chuckled at the slightly panicked look Wren sent him over her shoulder but gestured for her to follow the fiery red head.

"Here now luv," Vanora urged setting a steaming bowl before Wren. "I bet they forgot to feed you. Eat up, and I'll heat some water for your bath."

Wren nodded her thanks, her attention turning towards her meal. The portion of bread and jerky she had been given the night before had not been enough to fill her belly. She forced herself to eat slowly, to savor thick stew. She did not know when she was going to get to eat again.

It seemed that the redhead had just left when she appeared again. "If you're finished, come on back here. You'll feel better after a bath."

Wren followed Vanora back through the kitchen to a small room that held a large wooden tub. The water steamed gently, and Wren groaned in longing.

Vanora chuckled, "I sound the same way after a day of riding. Take that old thing off and I'll help you wash your hair. Then you can have a good long soak."

Gratefully Wren let her dress fall to the floor before Vanora's startled gasp revealed her mistake. She lowered her head shamefully.

"Lord child, what happened to your back?" Vanora blurted out, before noticing the stiff set of Wren's shoulders. "Never mind. Hop in, lets get you cleaned up."

Dutifully Wren did as instructed, glancing up at Vanora through lowered eyes. But the other woman did not look disgusted, rather concerned. As if sensing the silent scrutiny the older woman placed a comforting hand on Wren's shoulder, "Don't worry love. I'll not tell."

Wren's eyes were drooping with exhaustion by the end of her bath. Warm and with a full belly, she was more comfortable than she could remember being. She allowed Vanora to dress her and dutifully followed her up the flight of stairs.

A gentle push and she sunk onto the low pallet, her eyes closing even as she felt a blanket being draped over her.

**-x-**

The rest of the knights had returned and finished their debriefing when Vanora returned to the tavern, her eyes shining.

"What wrong luv?" Bors demanded, catching his lover in a beefy arm. "Tell ole Bors."

"The poor dear," Van began pulling back from her lover to face the rest of the knights. "She's been through so much…"

"How is she?" Galahad queried, looking around the room as if expecting to see Wren materialize. "Where is she?"

"Resting. I put her in bed with One and Two, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow. I'll find something more permanent for her in the morning."

"She's not a pet." Bors reminded his wife. "You'll have to ask her first. She might want to continue on."

"The hell she will." Vanora ground out, then seeing the looks the knights cast in direction she dodged, "I need the help in the tavern."

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